Secrets Can Be Deadly
by SymphonicRedWolf
Summary: When one of Alfred's co-workers discovers the secret of the Nation's identities, Alfred wants to keep her in the loop despite the protests of England. A group of people also know the Nations exist, but they don't know who they are. They know the girl knows and they will do anything to make her talk. They have their own agenda in mind and she is the one who will make it happen.
1. Accidents Do Happen

"Come on, Matt! Hurry up!"

"Alfred, slow down!" a heaving, out of breath boy replied. Alfred had finally held still long enough for him to catch up. His hands were full of heavy-looking bags until he put them on the sidewalk to catch his breath. The boy hunched forward, hands on his knees, panting heavily. "What are you in such a rush for?" Shoulder length wavy blonde locks covered his face and he made no effort to brush them aside. A small white bundle of fur strolled casually up to the boy who scooped it up carefully, cradling it to his chest. "There you are, Kumajirou."

The polar bear looked at its master with distant eyes before ushering a soft "Who?"

The blonde boy stood straight, hair falling comfortably behind his ears. One long ahoge refused to stay down. Thin-rimmed round glasses sat in front of violet-blue eyes.

"Because, Matt!" Alfred began, slinging an arm around his shoulders. "You're just too slow!" The indigo eyed boy—Matt, as he was called—rolled his eyes.

Callie noticed the two of them in the street on her way home from work. It was a long day, a boring day, with the highlight hearing Alfred's antics earlier. What he was doing in there was beyond her, but catching glimpses of the conversations always brought a smile to her face. He was easily the most excitable; a nice change from the more serious, uptight people who worked there.

The two twins—at least they appeared to be to Callie—stuck out on the Washington street. Matt, as she had heard the other boisterous boy address him as, was clutching what looked like a polar bear to his chest. A polar bear in Washington D.C.? Wasn't it too hot for them here? They lived in arctic climates, after all.

Her feet were already programmed to get her where she needed to go, thanks to the almost daily routine that was her life. They knew how to get her home without her having to think about it; she could be sleepwalking home from work and make it there no problem. But today it gave her time to watch the eccentric boys. It was things like this, people like them, that made walking worthwhile.

The other boy, the one with hair the color of golden wheat, scooped up easily the bags that his "twin" Matt was struggling with. He slung them over his shoulders, eyes still fixated on Matt as he shouted a loud, "Hurry up, Mattie, or I'm leaving you here! You can get home by yourself!"

"Eh? Watch out, Alfred!"

"Huh?" Alfred looked forward. Callie met Alfred's eyes for a second before they both found themselves staring at the sky. Callie blinked twice, trying to ascertain what just happened. There were Alfred's strikingly deep ocean blue eyes, pain in her head and back and a collision. He crashed into her, taking them both down. Callie pushed herself up into a sitting position. Alfred sat upright as well, rubbing the back of his head, an apologetic smile resembling that of a child's on his face.

"Alfred! Are you okay?" Matt asked, running up to the pair. Before he could offer his hand, the energetic blonde was back up on his feet. "I'm sorry about my brother." He tried to offer his hand to Callie, who refused.

Alfred finally noticed his vision was blurry when he tried to focus on the grey pair of eyes looking at him. No matter how many times he blinked, the sight before him refused to focus. "Crap! Matt, have you seen Texas?" He turned to the blonde blur, hoping it was his brother.

"Texas?" Callie asked. "You mean these?" She picked up the glasses lying at her feet. They didn't appear to be broken; in fact, they weren't even scratched. Alfred took his glasses, pushing them comfortably up the bridge of his nose. The two boys' glasses were almost identical, she noticed, the only difference being that Alfred's were more rectangular instead of half-circles like Matt's.

"Thanks. Sorry about that; I was in a rush and didn't see you," Alfred said, still smiling. He brushed the dust off his old Bombers Jacket and collected the scattered bags.

"Alfred's in a rush today," Matt said. Callie noticed the Canadian accent as he spoke. It was strange; if they were brothers, why did one have an accent and not the other one? "Much like every other day."

"It's okay," Callie said with a smile.

"I was not in a ru—say, wait a minute..." Blue orbs focused intently on Callie's grey ones, taking in the flecks of blue and green imperfections. Strands of bright auburn hair covered parts of her face, flowing in rhythm with the wind. Alfred's eyes narrowed in concentration. "You look familiar. Do I know you?"

At this, Callie chuckled. "You don't recognize me, Alfred? We work in the same place."

He continued to stare at her for a minute before a broad smile graced his features. Matt and Kumajirou exchanged a quick glance, both lost. Not that Kumajirou cared much for what was going on between the two of them. "Callie! I do know you! Heading home? Hey, have you met my brother?"

"I haven't. Nice to meet you."

Matt smiled. The polar bear in his hands fixed blue eyes on her. "Matthew Williams. Likewise, Callie." The bear fidgeted in his arms, clearly not happy with being forgotten. "Oh! This is Kumajirou." He settled down immediately, turning his blue eyes up to Matthew.

Alfred grabbed his brother's hand, earning him a surprised "Eh?" Callie was shocked at how he could hold that many bags in his left hand only; there were a good amount and they looked to weigh a significant amount. "Come on, Mattie! See you later, Callie!" Alfred ran off, pulling Mattie behind him. The poor kid was tripping over himself trying to keep up with his brother as he yelled an apology over his shoulder. She found herself chuckling as the two blondes disappeared within the Washington crowd.

That was certainly a fun walk home, she decided.

~oOoOoO~

But now _nothing_ made sense. She could easily recognize Alfred's voice and vaguely remembered Matthew's, but what they were talking about made no sense. It might as well have been in French for what it was worth; Callie was never good at French in school, nor was she to this day. Her knowledge of the language didn't extend past a few basic words and numbers.

From behind the White House conference room wall, there were several sets of voices. After Alfred's speech, a very annoyed Briton spoke up, addressing him as "America," who in turn addressed him as "England." Several other voices spoke up, each being called a country name instead of their true given ones.

These men were Nations, she'd overheard. Her mind screamed over and over that the mere thought was ridiculous; she'd simply misheard what they were saying. They weren't being called the country's name; they were talking about the one they each represented. That had to be it. Whether it was true or not, her heart hammered in her chest. She got the feeling she overheard something that was meant for their ears only. Why else would they be having a secluded meeting in the White House of all places? For a place with such high security, she figured soundproof rooms would have been a definite necessity. The best thing to do now would be to walk away and forget the whole thing, she decided.

That wasn't going to happen.


	2. Behind the Doors

Standing right behind her was a _very_ tall man clad in a beige army uniform. A white scarf hung loosely around his neck, stopping just before his knees. Decorating his left breast was a red and white ribbon attached to a star. She had no idea what that medal was for. The man was smiling, but his violet eyes were unreadable. He brushed silvery bangs out of his face with a gloved hand. "Who are you?" he spoke with a thick Russian accent. "You are not supposed to be here, _да?_ Are you spying?"

Callie froze. She didn't even think about how suspicious she must look. This man was so tall... And so intimidating. The sound of his voice alone made her want to curl up and hide. "I... No..." The words were caught in a lump in her throat; she wanted to say something, _anything_, but the words refused to come. He looked at her, cocking his head slightly. "What I... I mean... I wasn't!"

Without warning, he seized her wrist and pulled her into the room where the conversation she was unlucky enough to hear in the first place was happening. Five people—not including the man who pulled her inside—all fixed their eyes on her. The conversation stopped immediately; the silence was deafening. Everyone in the room had such experienced, hardened eyes that made Callie shrink in size. Her mind was screaming at her to run, but her body refused to obey.

"Russia, what have you done? Who is this?" Callie recognized the Briton's voice from behind the door and now she had a face to match it. Emerald eyes scrutinized every detail of her form, thick eyebrows furrowing in thought. He wore a deep green army uniform. The brightest aspect of the man—aside from his eyes—was his messy, disheveled blonde hair.

"I do not know. She was standing outside the door." Callie blinked. Was she hearing that right? This man was called "Russia?" That was the only explanation; he responded to it. "She looks harmless enough, _да?_"

"Those are the ones to watch out for. Take America for example." Alfred jumped up at the mention of his name. Callie had heard right; Alfred and "America" were one and the same.

"Come on, England! You're not still—"

England cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Not another word." He turned back to Callie who was now a mere three feet away from him. "Russia, you can let her go." She locked eyes with Russia who after a moment complied. Angry red marks claimed her wrist, sensitive to the touch. This "Russia" was strong. _Really_ strong. She gingerly rubbed her wrist, using the slight sting of her touch to clear her mind, providing a few seconds' escape from reality.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded. "This is a top-secret meeting. Are you here to spy? What have you learned?"

The ferocity of England's voice froze Callie where she stood. She forgot how to speak; no words came out when she opened her mouth. The fact that she couldn't form a sentence when her mind was screaming things left and right scared her. "My..." England's gaze hardened and the tension in the air grew thicker as the seconds ticked by. "My name is Callie...Callie Johnson. I work here in the White House. I wasn't spying, I swear! I was passing by on break, trying to get back to my room. I heard Alfred's voice inside and froze, worried I might have been late for the scheduled meeting."

England sighed. "Alfred, do you know her?"

"Hm?" He perked up at the sound of his name, standing face-to-face with Callie. The meeting had gotten kind of boring since England's comment so he tuned everything out. From that one question he pieced everything together again. She was smiling at him, he noticed.

Alfred replayed the other day's events—rushing to get back home, Mattie, and bumping into this girl. They had the same eyes... "Callie!" His lips turned up into a smile as he pulled her into a back-breaking hug.

"Al... Can't breathe..."

"Oh. Sorry!" His grip went lax and she took a deep breath. "Don't worry about her, Iggy. She's no danger. She's as honest as they come. I mean, she works alongside me, Alfred F. Jones, America itself!"

"Don't call me "Iggy." But if you say she's okay, I'll believe you for now."

"Don't worry about Iggy, Callie. He's just a stuffy old Brit."

"America itself..." she muttered under Alfred's laughter.

"That's right. As you must have heard by now, we're Nations." She cocked her head, confused. "We are the human representations of the countries of the world. We are the nation."

"Alfred! You can't go around telling people that. She's human, no less. It could be dangerous. That's also why it's a secret."

Alfred looked right into England's eyes for a few seconds before changing his expression to that of a kicked puppy. "Ah, right..."

"I'm sorry for all this, Alfred. I didn't mean to get you in trouble."

"You didn't." The other Nations watched him intently. They weren't used to seeing America so rational nor that affected by other peoples' actions.

England pulled him over to the side, lowering his voice considerably. "Something needs to be done. She can't know who we are. I'll take care of it, understand? I'll whip up a quick magic potion that will make her forget everything she learned about us." Everyone in the room, Callie included, exchanged glances. Did he know they could _all_ still hear him?

Magic? Callie wondered. England believed in magic? She thought for a moment, remembering reading something about the influence of magic in British stories and whatnot. But more importantly, she'd forget all this? She didn't want to forget. This was an incredible thing she learned, not to mention an incredible feeling. She wouldn't give up a secret such as this if it meant endangering these people.

"Wait!" For a second she believed she said that until she saw Matthew materialize beside Alfred.

"Whoa, Matt! When did you get here?"

Matt rolled his eyes. "I've been here the whole time." He got used to the whole being invisible thing, got used to the mistaken identity crisis that has been going on for decades, but the fact that they forgot about him still was as annoying as ever. "Eh?" Kumajirou shifted around against his chest, demanding to be let go. "What is it?" He stopped at Callie's feet and she picked him up, cradling the ball of fur against her chest. Matt, shocked at Kumajiou's acceptance of her, took him back.

"Hello, Matthew."

"Hello again," he said with a smile. "But technically here I'm Canada."

"Canada..." The brothers were more than brothers biologically. They were the North American brothers, existing side-by-side for centuries.

"Anyway, England, I don't think we should do that. As Nations, we can only be so open with the humans around us. We can't even interact closely with our own citizens. This could be good for all of us, especially Alfred."

"Yeah, that's it! Thanks, Mattie." He pulled his brother into a bone-crushing bear-hug, poor Kumajirou squished in-between.

"And if she gets into any danger, then that will be our last resort."

Alfred blinked, training his ocean eyes on his brother. "Matt, don't tell me you believe Iggy's crazy magic stuff too! There's no way magic exists." England narrowed his eyes, muttering what could only be curses under his breath.

"That sounds like a very good plan," Russia chimed cheerfully. Callie turned to the owner of the voice, shocked; she forgot about the others as she listened to their conversation. If each person in the room was a Nation, there must have been one for every actual country out there. And based on what she learned from this conversation, no citizens were even the slightest bit aware their country had a personification. Why? she wondered. If they knew, perhaps some of the events in history could have been avoided. Was it to protect the people or protect themselves? And what about the rest of the countries? What did their Nation personifications look like?


	3. Introductions All Around

_**A/N: Ah, it's chapter three and I forgot to write this in! First story and all, I was excited to get going. Well, I don't own Hetalia. Which is too bad; they're all so cute. **_

* * *

She glanced around the room, carefully observing each Nation. The first thing she noticed is that they were all boys. Were there any female Nations? None of them—besides the North American twins—looked similar at all. Russia and China for example, despite sharing a large border, didn't have any similar physical traits. Alfred insisted everyone introduce themselves, pleading with puppy-dog eyes when it seemed like they were going to refuse. After a few attempted protests, each Nation caved and the room came alive with quick introductions.

England stepped forward first, much to everyone's surprise. He was also the first to protest. "I'm Arthur Kirkland," the Briton said half-heartedly. "Personification of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland."

"That's Iggy," America—Alfred—said. "He's England. I think he's just trying to show off by using his full title. He thinks it makes him sound cooler; more intimidating. But I'm the real hero here and he knows it." Arthur's eyes widened.

Callie chuckled. "Iggy?"

"It's a nickname the bloody twat insists on calling me despite how much I loathe it."

"I see. It's cute though." Arthur's face flushed for a brief second but he dismissed it with an exasperated sigh and an eye roll. She smiled; the two of them were obviously very close, even if he didn't want to admit it.

The next man stood up gracefully. Shoulder length wavy golden hair followed his every movement. She studied him as he walked over in her direction; his outfit certainly was the flashiest out of all of them. He sported an eloquent navy blue shirt with red bottoms. "Hello, darling," he said, taking her hand. "I am Francis Bonnefoy, the wonderful country of _l'amour._" He gently kissed her hand and her face immediately turned red. Between the accent, the flirtatious attitude and his body language, there was no mistake. This man was France. ...The name helped too.

"Francis," Matthew sighed, setting Kumajirou down. The rest of the conversation continued in French, and from the poor Nation's facial expression, it was not a fun conversation for him.

"But Mathieu!" he whined. After a bit more back-and-forth in French, a stern look from Matt sent him back to his seat, still whining.

The man who dragged her into this whole mess approached her next. She had to crane her neck to see him fully. As they locked eyes, she felt a sudden urge to shrink away and hide, but after a few seconds, the desire to do so disappeared. "_Здравствуйте,_" he said cheerfully, like a child about to ask if they wanted to be friends. "I am sorry about before. I did not know you were Alfred's friend. Although it must be tough having to put up with him; it sure is for all of us." Her wrist stung at the mention of the earlier event.

"It's okay." She smiled brightly at the Nation. "You didn't know and I did look suspicious, after all. And Alfred's fun; he makes work exciting."

Russia returned the smile. "As you heard before, I am the Nation of Russia. _Меня зовут_ _Иван Брагински_. Perhaps we can be friends, _да_? It will be nice to be around actual humans without having to hide our identity; see what they think about all this."

"Of course." The two shook on it. America gaped, mouth wide open. This was not happening!

"Russia, I swear, if you ask her to—"

"Don't be silly, _Америка_." He grimaced at the incorrect pronunciation of his name. "She is not. I would never."

"Better not. And why do you always insist on saying my name wrong? A-mer-i-_ca_." He enunciated each part slowly as if Ivan were a child learning to speak for the first time. "Get it right."

Ivan chuckled. "I am saying it right."

"No! You're accenting it weird and..." he was in Ivan's face before he even finished his sentence, staring him down.

"Alright," Callie said, pushing—with great difficulty—the two men away from each other. "As much as I love history, I don't want to be responsible for starting the Cold War Part Two."

China was last to introduce himself. Callie felt a little awkward when he did so; the first time she laid eyes on him, she thought he was a girl. She felt bad for thinking it especially now that she knew otherwise. But she wasn't wrong to think so; the hair and his face didn't help at all. She wondered how many people originally mistook him for a girl, but felt it rude to mention it.

As the Nations talked a bit more—to both Callie and the other Nations—she noticed each had certain aspects to them that really represented the land they personified. It was evident, not in their accents or native language, but in the way they presented themselves. The food they ate, their actions and movements. Canada's verbal tic and Russia's way of speaking were good giveaways. They wore clothes based on their cultures. And the Nations had a certain closeness and understanding of each other that no humans would ever understand. They were strong. Proud. Each centuries old with fantastic stories to tell—be they good or bad—and experiences no humans could ever have. It was a feeling Callie yearned for that made her heart ache slightly. She wanted to know what it was like.

How did Nations become Nations? She wondered. Did they exist since the beginning of time or as boundaries were made by humans? Did they come to be from an overwhelming sense of nationalism? Were they born Nations, knowing their title and responsibility or was it thrust on them? What did being a Nation mean? Callie imagined them supervising the country along with their respective leaders, always backing them, being on the front lines during war. She had so many questions to ask them, but save for Alfred, she had just met them. Those were intensely personal questions and several nations had painful histories. If asking would offend any of them, she'd hold off no matter how badly she wanted to know.

"Al, shouldn't we get back to the meeting?" Ca—Matthew asked. Her eyes focused on the soft-spoken twin. She blinked several times and felt a twinge of both sadness and guilt. She had interrupted their meeting, but she knew it was a polite, indirect way of asking her to leave. Callie wanted nothing more than to spend more time with the Nations.

Alfred looked tiredly at the clock. Five forty-eight. The meeting had drawn on for _such_ a long time now and while the Nations could be entertaining, he was getting bored of the atmosphere meetings always brought with them. The meeting was already past its desired ending time; it should've ended a good hour ago. One meeting where things went smoothly and ended on time was too much to ask for, the Nations knew. But hoping was nice. "But I'm hungry, Mattie! Let's get food. I know this awesome joint a little while away. We got enough done today anyway."

England rolled his eyes. How the kid could be so foolish was beyond him. "Enough? We haven't done a bloody thing! The whole meeting we sat and listened to your childish plans for solving the crises our countries face, despite the fact we shot the same ideas down last meeting!"

He bounced over to him, big ocean eyes pleading. "Come on, Iggy! Please? I bet Callie would like to go too." England scoffed. The fact he would be inviting the human along only made him want to squash the idea completely, until it was nothing more than fine dust.

"Eh?" she squeaked out. All the Nations were looking at her again and like when she entered the room for the first time, she wanted to cower; flee far away from them. Slowly, her eyes drifted away from the expectant blue orbs to the ground. She studied the pattern with such intensity she was sure she'd see it when she closed her eyes. White tile with lots of black spots that looked like they got there from a kid flicking the paint off his brush. "Okay, Alfred. I'd love to get food." Spending more time with all the Nations together would be a bit intimidating, but this was her best chance to get to know them. If, after today, they weren't allowed to be in contact again, she'd want to get all she could out of the one experience.

Alfred smiled a huge smile. "Two-to-one, Iggy. Majority rules." England looked away, not wanting to hear any part of his "Democracy rules" speech or whatever else the little git would think of next. It was hard to believe two hundred and thirty-four years had passed since he left him. So much had changed in that small amount of time, even now it shocked him.

Clearing his throat, he started, "I told you not to call me that. I'll only go if you agree to call me by my actual time. Not your silly little "nickname.""

Alfred swung his arm around the Briton's shoulders. Triumphant again, he smiled slyly. "'Kay, Artie." Before Arthur could get his next word out, he continued, "But only for today!" He started to laugh, but Callie was the only one who really joined in on his merriment. The other Nations merely smiled.

England sighed. Alfred had always been quick to try and make friends, ever since he was young. The other Nations had seen him get into some bad relationships with other countries. England especially; he was there for a great deal of Alfred's life. He didn't trust Callie. She was a human. They couldn't be trusted with secrets so powerful. She posed no real threat unless she could convince the nation's leader and its people to turn on their country and destroy the capital. A country's capital was their very heart. God forbid, should she, they could stop her easily. The people, the angry mobs that would form and demand revolution, were a whole other story. But as she laughed, truly laughed with Alfred, it didn't seem to him like that was her intention.

But he'd watch her just in case.


	4. So What Do I Call You?

England didn't despise humans. He loved them, in fact. His own citizens, especially. They were so fascinating. The way they lived their short lives and interacted so openly made him jealous at times, he admitted, since being a Nation meant they had to keep their whole identity a secret. But he had seen people completely changed by such knowledge; his people, even his comrades' people were driven mad by the power, becoming totally different. That was the thing about humans; they always wanted more power and knowledge was the greatest kind of power there was. Even the leaders of countries who swore to protect and better it could be changed for the worst. Germany and Russia were the best examples.

All the Nations felt the same thing towards their citizens. They loved them. Wanted to keep their people safe and happy no matter what it took. They were born that way. It was a feeling etched into their heart the day they became a Nation. A feeling programmed into their very being. But one person was all it took to change the tides. While no Nation could ever hate their people, none of them wanted to fight against them.

But Alfred was willing to share a secret meant only for a country's respective leader. He sighed, his mouth turning up in a twisted half-smile. Once he had his heart set on something, there was no changing his mind. England admired his persistence, especially during dark times, but now it was getting irritating. But if she dared, he'd be ready.

"..._terre,_ what are you staring at so harshly?" England blinked. Everyone's eyes were on him. He was only scowling again. No big deal. "Were you captivated by my—" France's hand flew to his face, clutching his nose as blood trickled through his fingers.

Callie cringed. She could've sworn she heard the sickening crack of the bones in France's nose. Alfred swung his arm around Callie whose knees nearly buckled. She marveled at his strength. "Ready to go?" She nodded dumbly, not taking her eyes off France and England. There was more than just history between them, she noticed.

She made a mental note of the questions she had for them as Alfred led her out of the room. She'd be so mad if she forgot. And hopefully the questions she was planning to ask weren't intensely personal. She didn't want to step on eggshells, especially since she was a stranger and a human, no less. He was pulling her by the arm with such force it was a wonder her shoulder was still attached to the rest of her. She chewed on her lip, drawing blood.

"Alfred, stop. Please. That hurts."

It took a moment for the words to register, but when they did, the blonde released her arm like it was hot to the touch. Twice in one day and the same arm, no less. First America, then Russia. She wouldn't be surprised if she could barely use that arm tomorrow. It was already sore to the touch; little movements caused her pain. Where did they all get this incredible strength? Was it the same for each of them? There was no way she'd ever be able to keep up with the Nations no matter how hard she tried. A knot formed in her heart as a feeling of helplessness settled in. It was an alien feeling and she didn't like it.

"I'm sorry, Callie." America didn't like knowing he was causing people pain. As the strongest nation, it was his job to protect and look out for everyone. And she wanted to be his friend. Friends didn't hurt friends.

"America, you have to remember she's only human. While they're not fragile, they don't possess the strength we do."

He half-looked at England, not wanting to meet the older Nation's eyes. "I know, I know. I just forgot."

Callie smiled to herself. Maybe she wasn't totally helpless after all. Alfred trusted her to keep the secret of their existence. As long as she did so, she could stay friends with them and nothing in their lives would change. They'd be in no danger. While she couldn't keep up physically, she felt emotionally and mentally she was on the same page.

Canada watched America exchanging several words with Callie—to which she nodded—and she was finally led out of the room. His face was positively alight. America was always quick to cheer up and easily excitable, but he hadn't looked so truly carefree and happy in a while. The other Nations slowly started to shuffle out, but Canada didn't notice them. He was glad to see the sparkle in Alfred's eyes return. The economic situation had been taking quite a toll on all the Nations, but America seemed particularly hit by it. Canada decided to accept the fact she was going to be a new addition to the group quickly, but some of the others, like England, for example, would need _quite_ a bit more convincing. He liked her. Really, he did. She could even see him when no one else could. And she could remember he was Canada, not America. He rubbed the back of his head, recalling all the times Cuba would attack him, believing him to be America.

"..._vey_?" Canada blinked, meeting Russia's steady violet gaze. Kumajirou shifted around on his chest and he ignored his routine "Who?" "What were you thinking about, Matthew?"

The larger Nation moved, making room for Canada. The room was empty now. He could make out the distant silhouettes of his comrades advancing down the hall. Either they didn't know they were missing, they didn't care, or both. Canada reluctantly thought it was the last one.

"Alfred and Callie. He just looks so happy, you know? I think this is a good thing for him."

Russia tugged at his scarf gently. "_Да._ I have noticed that. I can even say I have taken to her." Russia really did feel as if he and Callie could be good friends. Ever since the wars ended, other Nations were reluctant to even get near Russia, let alone be friends with him. He had decent relations with some of them, but he still felt lonely. He wanted a real friend.

"I'm glad. He's my brother and it makes me happy to see him having a good time." Canada realized he couldn't see any of the others anymore and raced for the door. "Ivan, come on! Before they get too far."

Callie looked around. They were nearly at the White House gate, but still something seemed off. The Secret Service men stationed around the perimeter had their eyes trained on the group. Working near the President brought about being watched closely, but she felt it was extra close today. This group probably wasn't strangers to the White House, but she could feel the hawk-like gaze of the men around her trained on them. She looked at each of the Nations, stopping when she noticed the group seemed smaller than it did before. Thankfully Alfred wasn't still holding onto her or her shoulder would have easily been pulled from its socket.

"Alfred! Where are Russia and your brother?"

America whipped around, scanning the area for Canada. He wasn't too concerned about Russia. Honestly, he still didn't care too much for him and felt the less time he spent with him the better. But the fact that Canada got along so well with Russia sent a chill down America's spine. And Callie wanting to be friends with him! She didn't know that he was so...so scary and weird! But, of course, as the Hero, he wouldn't be thinking that about Russia. He'd heard that from some of the other Nations.

"Matt! Where are you! France, England, have you seen Mattie?"

"Who?" they both chorused. Callie stared at the men, dumbstruck. Poor Canada. He was always being forgotten. Even by the Nations who owned him once upon a time. There were even Americans who didn't know where Canada was on the map, let alone it was a real country. But Alfred seemed to remember he had a brother. Still, the fact they could remember all fifty states and not their sister—or technically, brother—nation was shocking.

"Matthew!" They just looked at him. "Canada? My brother?"

It took a moment, but realization spread across their faces. "Oh!" England cleared his throat. "How could I forget Canada? He was so much more well-behaved than you as a child. Unlike you, he respected and appreciated everything I did for him."

"_Non, Angleterre,_ little Mathieu always loved Big Brother France more~" France held his hands to his face, smiling dreamily.

"Shut it, frog!" England delivered a swift right hook to the side of France's face. France whimpered, massaging his cheek gingerly. England chuckled, muttering something to himself until a surprise kick to the kidney left him sprawled out on the ground, coughing. He brushed the dust off his uniform, lunging at France. The two were shouting insults at each other left and right, throwing and blocking punches and kicks.

Callie was about to yell at Alfred to stop them until she saw him smiling and laughing, watching them as if he were watching his favorite movie. All that was missing was a box of popcorn. "Hey, Al!" Callie turned to the sound of the voice. Canada was running down the walkway, Kumajirou bouncing around in his arms with every step. Russia trailed leisurely behind him, smiling. America raced toward his brother, tackling him to the ground. England and France, each holding each other by the collar, stopped and released the other at once, fixing their clothes to hide any evidence of the scuffle.

"Matt! Are you okay? He didn't do anything to you, did he?" He pointed a finger and glared at Russia. "Because if he did, you can tell me. As the Hero, it's my job to protect you!"

"Me?" Russia asked innocently, looking down at the two of them.

Canada pushed America off him, straightening his glasses. "It's okay. Ivan and I were just talking."

There it was again. They switched between human and country names at will. Sometimes he was "Alfred," other times "America." It was different for every sentence and Callie had no idea what to call the people around her.

"I know this is a strange question, but what am I supposed to address you guys as? Hearing you talk to each other, I'm not sure if I should call you by country or by name."

Everyone blinked, looking at Callie. All was silent for a moment before England cleared his throat, taking two steps toward her. "Usually we are addressed by our respective country names. It's a sign of respect. But Nations who have close ties to others or have become good friends typically call the other by their human name."

"So it depends on your relationship with the other. I see. Like how I call America "Alfred" since we work together."

"Yes. Our bosses, the leaders of our countries, usually call us by our human name as well. But it would be weird if we went around calling each other by country, wouldn't you agree? Our identity is supposed to be secret. While people may not suspect our true identity, you never know. Or we could be deemed crazy and institutionalized. Granted breaking out shouldn't be much of a problem," England mused thoughtfully, thinking back to his younger days. While he had grown out of his pirate phase, there were some things about the life that still appealed to him.

Alfred looked at the blonde, smiling. "That's the spirit, Artie!" He clapped the Briton on the shoulder playfully, but instead of smiling, he glared at America. Who knew even England could have a wild side? "So call us all by our human names, okay? We're all friends, right?" Callie nodded. The other Nations exchanged glances, but none of them protested.


End file.
